


you know you'll always be my valentine

by humanoidtyphoon



Category: ATV Cinematic Universe, Original Work
Genre: Continuation of another fic, F/F, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Ten Years Later, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Update: ill never finish this but imagine how awesome it would be if i did? lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29640780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanoidtyphoon/pseuds/humanoidtyphoon
Summary: r/relationships: what do you do if you (28nb) run into the guy (28m) who hardcore rejected you under the blooming cherry blossom trees in the school courtyard 10 years ago but neither of you have had any constructive character development?OR: Sascha and Yuto have some making up (and making out?) to do, but it's never very easy for these two, is it?
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	you know you'll always be my valentine

**Author's Note:**

> hi..............................this is the fervent response to something my friend wrote [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29640951) because im so sick i can't have them be separated for too long (if you don't consider 10 years too long, that is )
> 
> by the way, if you dont read that first (or are inside our brains?) you probably won't understand much!! feel free to contact me at my twitter (cynicalplnk) if you see this by some stroke of luck and are interested :)

A lone figure takes a long drag from their cigarette as they stand under the canopy of an airport's designated smoking area. They discreetly flick it into the wet street and turn around to greet the woman that approaches them, quickly trying to fan the smoke from their face. The pattering rain smothers the embers almost instantly, and thrums against the woman's umbrella, extended to them in the cold.

"It's been quite a while, huh? Let's go to a hot spring or something to kick this off!" Sascha says cheerily, ducking under their counterpart's protection to shield themselves from the rainfall. It isn't a downpour, but enough to be bothersome. In their younger years they'd worry more, but shorter hair tends to dry quicker.

The woman sighs, tucking her own hair behind her ear. It curls there softly, long and draping past her neck, now. Sascha feels a brief pang of jealousy before she speaks. 

"This isn't a vacation, we're here on official business, you know." She says it as if she means it, but her face is bored.

"Yeah, yeah," They say. They shove their hands in their pockets, one fist curling around the cold metal shell of their lighter. "Well let's get going then, shall we?" They switch languages easily, but there's hesitation in their voice.

It's been, well, ten years. Ten years of continuing their education in Russia to be of assistance to their brother, to the organization. Sascha turned twenty eight this year, and Nat’s turning twenty seven in a couple of months. They can hardly remember ten years ago, but the spring rain feels strangely familiar. They resist the urge to stick their hand out to catch the droplets in their palm. 

They feel eyes boring into the side of their head and turn to see Nat glaring at them with an uncharacteristic viciousness. 

"You've been smoking again." She says cooly. “You should start chewing gum if you don’t want me to smell them. 

Sascha swallows. Kind, lenient Nat doesn't approve of this bad habit, and is rather obtrusive about it. As if reading their mind (by lasering her eyes through their thick skull), she holds out a palm.

Sascha groans, "Really? You're like my mom, or something." They obediently fish the half smoked pack out of their breast pocket and press it into her gloved hand. Nat's leather fist curls around it and crushes it quickly, stopping their brisk pace through the rain to chuck it in a waste bin as they pass, Sascha silently bemoaning its loss. 

They reach the car waiting for them, left by an associate. It's sleek, black, nondescript. Much like their suits. While Nat dislikes the stiff attire, Sascha appreciates the way it accentuates the bulk of their shoulders. They spend a little while admiring themselves in the tinted windows before Nat reminds them they have to get going. She drives, and thus controls the radio, so she switches to a pop channel and turns it down low.

After a little while of dozing off Sascha pipes back up. "We should get them flowers, right? Sending gifts is polite." They press their temple against the glass, relishing in the cool moisture against their skin. They close their eyes and exhale, opening them again to see their breath fogging their view of rain drenched Yokohama. 

Nat hums, scanning the buildings they pass. "There could be a florist nearby-- ah. In the shopping center, maybe?" Sascha glances out the window, seeing the bright lights of the center through the rain. A pit starts to form in their stomach, as if this was a bad idea, coming back here. 

The uncomfortable feeling deepens as they enter the mall, scanning the shops for the place they sought out. Nat rattles off about botany while they look for it, talking about symbolism of flowers and the complicated language behind them. Sascha listens dutifully, engaged, and wonders when Nat had the time to learn all of this.

“And cherry blossoms- oh we might still be here in time for them to bloom actually. They live such a short time, they’ve come to be known for their fleeting nature. For spring and first loves too, and they’re gorgeous.” They were young then, and lucky too, that the semester they spent here ten years ago was just in time to watch the flowers blossom. They bode their time until they started to fall, coating the courtyards in a blanket of pink. The wind blew the pesky petals into their hair as they waited for him, he arrived as they were irritably picking them out from the messy strands, startling them-- 

"There it is!" She says, shocking Sascha out of their thoughts. Ah, the flower shop.   
  
It's a quaint, homely shop tucked between two franchise stores. Flowers and plants of all shapes and sizes seem to be climbing up the windows and walls, propped up on shelves and benches. A vase of lily of the valleys sits on the counters. Sascha tips their head up to read the sign, and immediately narrows their eyes. 

Nat watches them, quietly, eyes wide in contrast.

"G-Gassan..? Gassan? Mount Gassan Florists?" They murmur, hand cupped under their chin as they consider the unfamiliar kanji. They glance to Nat for help, who looks both aghast and like she's trying not to laugh at the same time. They frown, shoving their hands back in their pockets.   
  
“Who knew after all this time you still can’t read kanji.. I thought your brother told you to touch up on your studies?” Nat teased, tapping their elbow as she took a step past them towards the store. “Why don’t you ask the owner what the meaning is, then?” She smiled, and it was sparkling and devious and so, so rare. 

“Gassan isn’t even near here.” They hissed under their breath, throwing one more glower at the sign, painted beautifully in green ink, before they trudged after Nat. 

The florist’s was, well, certainly a florist’s shop. Despite the counter being devoid of human life, it seemed like a busy place. Two girls were in the back near small potted gardenias, cooing over which one they should choose. 

Sascha suddenly felt too big, too imposing, awkward, out of place among the bright and the beautiful. They went to call Nat, but faltered. She looked at home. Her gloves abandoned to a pocket, she ran the pads of her fingers over the leaves of an impressive spider plant that was spilling over onto the cash register. She smiled softly to herself as her gaze wandered over the seedlings in a glass case to the left of it. She looked too at home. 

There was that ugly, ugly pang of jealousy again, clinging to their ribcage. It was so selfish of them, resenting their cousin, their best friend, for enjoying simple pleasures so they tucked it back down again and cleared their throat.    
  
“We don’t have all day, but we can come and browse at your leisure later this w-” A rustling crash from the back room interrupted, both of them whipping towards the source of the noise.   
  
“Ah! Ah! I’m okay!” A muffled voice said from behind the door. There was a rattling of the door handle and it swung open with a kick, slamming against the opposite wall. Nat moved before Sascha could. The owner of the voice (and most likely the florist’s) was dwarfed by the boxes of supplies she was holding, which Nat graciously plucked out of her arms with little effort.    
  
“Chiyoko.” Nat greeted, beaming, glowing, shimmering, down at someone Sascha thought they’d never see again. The woman reacted with a gasp, hands still pressed to the boxes, as she took in Nat’s sudden arrival. 

Sascha, ever the outsider, fought the urge to excuse themself outside as the two chatted amicably.    
  
“You did tell me you’d be visiting, but I didn’t think it’d be this soon! I would have prepared something!”   
  
“I figured it’d be better kept as a surprise. Plus, it’s on official business anyways, we didn’t know we’d be coming until a couple days ago.”   
  
“We? Oh--” Chiyoko peers around Nat’s shoulder and all but flutters over to Sascha. 

They fight a recoil, face cracking in a smile reserved just for her. “Been a while.”   
  
“Certainly has. Have you grown?” Chiyoko asks, but her tone hides a thinly veiled interrogation. 

“A couple inches. I’m 6’5”, but I think I’ll be shrinking from here on ow,  _ OW _ -” Sascha’s forcefully yanked down by their earlobe to Chiyoko’s level, leaving them stunned. Its unexpected when she wraps her arms around their neck in a hug, gently bonking her head against theirs.    
  
“You didn’t contact me once. Not a single time, after you left. I had to rely on Nat to update me on you guys, and she’s horrible with technology!” Her voice lowers to a whisper at the end, concealing her criticism of a certain old lady by the name of Nat, who’s currently organizing boxes behind the counter. Chiyoko gives Sascha one last squeeze before letting them go. 

  
“We have a lot to catch up on,” She smiles, brushing a lock of her dark hair back under her patterned bandana. Sascha resists the urge to collapse under the pressure within their chest and nods, smiling back down at her. 


End file.
